It was a weekday night during a holiday week. Fortunately, I didn't have to go to work the following day. I was in the mood to go out and socialize, but sadly the weather outside was forbiddingly cold. With a feeling of resignation I strolled over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. I sighed slightly, thinking of how difficult it sometime seemed to encounter a compatible member of the opposite sex for dating purposes.
I thought to myself that this shouldn't be the case-- I was good-looking, personable, and all that good stuff. I further reflected that when I thought of the difficulties in finding someone "compatible", what I really meant was "sexually compatible". My last girlfriend had been wonderful in so many ways, including in the bedroom. However, she was lacking in any spirit of kinkiness. This fact alone was fine, of course. There is absolutely nothing wrong with beautiful vanilla sex. Goodness knows that it can be absolutely transcendent at times, and furthermore, even on those occasions when the sex inhabits a more mundane, quotidian plane, being physically intimate with one's sweetheart can be extraordinarily pleasurable and emotionally rewarding, among other things.
However, during our relationship, over the years it became apparent to us both that my sexual proclivities were becoming too much of an obstacle to ignore. The things that made me most excited involved submissive behavior on the part of a very willing (and eager!) female, as well as other assorted kinky leanings, things in which my ex- was decidedly not interested in pursuing. Perhaps her attitudes somehow meant that she was more evolved emotionally and sexually. Then again, I think a fair case could be made that it was I who was more "advanced" in this regard, if only by dint of my adventurousness and open-mindedness in that area.
In any case, that is not particularly a question that I am interested in answering. People and their sexualities are formed by so many different complex forces as they move through life. I've never been interested in judging or condemning people for what they are or aren't drawn to in the erotic dimension of life, as long as it doesn't involve children, animals, or non-consensual activity, or activities which harm others or one's self. That being said, I don't condemn persons for the mere fact of having desires in those areas. I'm not interested in prosecuting thought crimes. I simply wish for all to feel and to be safe from harm and to feel free to express their sexuality in its fullness.
As I mused upon these thoughts I took a few more sips of beer. I realized that I was not only feeling a vague yearning to be sociable, but that also a strong current of horniness was building up in me. It seemed to have made itself known rather suddenly, and as my thoughts continued to roll along over the topic of sex, the physical and psychological longing inside of me began to become more and more insistent. I could feel the blood rushing down towards my groin, and my cock was beginning to stiffen.
I proceeded into my bedroom, where my laptop awaited me, along with its promises of photographs and videos of naked flesh only a few mouse clicks and moments away from the present. I lay down on the bed and pulled a big fluffy comforter over me. I was beginning to really appreciate the fact that I was not wandering outside into the frigid cold in search of some company at a bar or club, and was thankful for the solitude of my warm bed, where I could mess around with my computer, my imagination, and my body, and take the initiative of fulfilling all of my private forbidden desires.
My cock began to grow harder in anticipation as the computer warmed up and connected to the magical internet with its accompanying playgrounds of lust. A thought came into my mind-- on similar solitary nights like this in the past I had experienced some very enjoyable times while chatting on the Literotica website. A couple of times I had even talked with some very interesting and very dirty women on the phone.
My hard cock began to stir in my pants as I recalled an evening in which I convinced a woman in her early twenties to telephone me while she played with a dildo by her side. She agreed to do anything that I told her to do. I told her that we would play a game, much like a spelling bee, except she had to spell all of the words while her mouth was stuffed full of the silicone cock. I had her spell out various naughty words that came to my mind, and then asked her to use them in a sentence..."Slut. S-L-U-T. Slut. I am a dirty slut...F-U-C-K-W-H-O-R-E. Fuckwhore. Please let me be your nasty little fuckwhore! Cock. C-O-C-K. Cock. I love sucking cock..." All of this came out deliciously garbled while her mouth was simultaneously occupied with the dildo.
After the nasty spelling bee game, I told her that I wanted to hear her slurp on the cock and to show me what a nasty suckwhore she was. I told her to suck on the dildo just the way that she would suck on my cock, and to show me just how dirty she could be. I heard her make some wonderful slurping noises at the other end of the phone, and then I heard a strange slight gurgling sound as she seemed to be picking up speed. "What was that?" I asked.
There was a slight pause before she replied, "What do you think it was? I was gagging."
"You gagged on the cock? Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." I heard more slurping noises and then once again the sound of her gagging.
"Uh, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Guys like that. C'mon, I know you like it when I do that."
My mind began to puzzle over this. As a child I was one of those persons who always hated throwing up and would do almost anything to avoid it. The idea of having my gag reflex triggered seemed positively antithetical to the ostensible primary goal of sexual play of this sort-- pleasure. In short, I felt guilty that she was gagging on the dildo.
At the same time, I could feel my cock throbbing and growing harder, aching with the pleasure that was building up inside of my body. There was something so nasty about hearing her gag on the dildo, that it was obviously turning me on quite a bit. As she continued to noisily slurp and every so often gag on the dildo, I masturbated furiously. The fact that someone was willing to go to such lengths to please me was an incredible turn-on. As well, the fact that I was able to make her beg and whine to please let her be a "dirty whore" for me, (plus every other politically incorrect and humiliating, nasty name in the book) was all also extremely exciting to me.
As I recalled this and some of my other adventures via Literotica, as well as in face-to-face encounters with like-minded women, I suddenly remembered that Tess, a woman with whom I had the pleasure of having some extremely nasty phone sex encounters in the past, had told me recently that she had broken up with her boyfriend. The fact that she only lived a couple of miles away from me made it seem like we were fated to have some very fun in-person encounters at some future date. We had met briefly for drinks at happy hour on a couple of occasions while she was still seeing her boyfriend, and subsequent to each such occasion, she revealed to me that she had thought of going into the bathroom with me and unzipping my pants and giving me a sloppy, whorish blowjob. Thinking now of Tess, my mind began to run wild with all sorts of deliciously dirty ideas. "This has to happen", I thought.
